When All Else Fades
by xElementFivex
Summary: Mello will always have Matt, no matter what the world thinks of him.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Mello kicked open the door of his apartment with perhaps a little more force than necessary, thrilled beyond belief to be home. It had been an extremely long day and he wanted to do nothing other than chow down on a fresh bar of chocolate and cuddle with his Matty-kins.

Er… that is… chow down on a fresh bar of chocolate and play with guns. Lots of guns. And other manly stuff; like Sports Illustrated, and ice cold beer and obscenely large power tools.

Mihael Keehl was nothing if not a manly man.

Letting the door slam shut behind him, Mello grabbed a chocolate bar from a stack on the nearby coffee table and unwrapped it, wondering idly where he had left his tool case.

"Matt?" he called as he absent-mindedly snapped off a piece of chocolate. "Matt? Have you seen my electric power drill? I think one of the neighbors saw me painting my toenails on the balcony the other day so I wanna go whack some stuff around the underside of your car. You know, make it look like I'm fixing it and shit. That's manly enough to combat painted toenails, right? Matt?_ Matt?"_

A low whistle issued from a doorway off to his right and Mello instinctively put up one hand in time to catch the wrench that hurtled from it. A tousled head of bright red hair peered around the doorframe, followed quickly by a long, lanky body clad only in low-slung jeans and- for some reason- a pair of frayed, fingerless gloves.

"Try not to break my car too badly this time, 'kay Mels? I can't afford to get it fixed again."

Mello brought the wrench closer to his face and inspected it distastefully. "This isn't my electric power drill. I _asked_ for my electric power drill." He sent a withering glare in the redhead's direction, only half joking.

"Yeah, about that…" Matt brushed past Mello and hopped over the back of the couch, reaching for a game controller and resuming the game paused on the TV before continuing to speak. "There's pretty much zero chance of you getting anywhere near my car with that thing ever again."

Mello tapped the wrench against his left hand in irritation, giving the back of Matt's head his best mob-boss glare.

"Don't give me that look," Matt drawled, interpreting Mello's silence without even having to turn around. "Besides, why do you need people to think you're manly? You've got me around." He chuckled quietly at his own joke.

"Oh yeah," Mello responded, "That'll work perfectly next time I get threatened by anyone. 'Oh, hold on guys, can you stop the beating real quick? I've gotta call my_ manly _friend.'" He snorted in disgust.

"Or you could, I dunno, shoot them with your_ big fucking gun._" Matt grunted as his character on screen died again. "Jesus Christ, you're a mob-boss! Aren't you used to that sort of thing?"

Mello stopped tapping the wrench and folded his arms, making his way around the couch to sit opposite his friend. "What sort of things do you think I do in a day Matt?"

Matt grunted in frustration, fingers flying across the controller. "I don't know. Shoot things? Speak in a bad Italian accent? Other… mafia-y type things?"

Mello sighed and didn't even bother answering. For a while, the only sounds in the room were the explosions from Matt's game and the repeated button mashing he was subjecting the controller to.

Ten minutes passed, and Mello had yet to bitch Matt out or even say anything at all. Matt pressed pause on the game. "Is it actually bothering you, Mels?"

Mello looked up in surprise; Matt paying attention to someone else talking while he was playing a game was a rarity that only Mello and few other people got to enjoy. But Matt actually _stopping _a game to ask someone about how they were feeling? Even if that person was Mello, it was practically unthinkable.

Matt sighed in irritation. "For fuck's sake Mello, I'm asking because I'm genuinely concerned here, but the window of time where I'm willing to sit and listen to you talk about it is closing rapidly and if all you're gonna do is sit there with that stupid look on your face then I-"

"Okay, _okay_! Goddamn Matt, you just surprised me is all."

Another silence stretched between the two boys, this one far less comfortable than the previous. "Well?" Matt inquired, preparing himself mentally for whatever inconsequential thing Mello was stressing over this time. They had been friends for nearly ten years; Matt was more than used to the blonde's mood swings over the smallest details. He had once seen Mello go into a weeklong depression because he had seen a bad photo of himself. For someone with so much power, the blonde was surprisingly vain. And getting that scar had only worsened his paranoia over how people perceived him.

"I… I don't think… I don't think I can beat Near."

"Wha-?" Matt was stunned. He had been expecting Mello to say something about his scar, his hair, or possibly even another quip about how he wanted to appear more manly- but he certainly wasn't expecting actual emotions to come forth from his best friend. And he definitely wasn't prepared for the sad, slightly hollow look he could see in Mello's eyes as he stared at Matt.

"I don't think I can," Mello repeated. "I can't even get people to think of me the way I want them to. Sure, most of my men think I'm fucking crazy as hell, but that still doesn't mean they respect me. Fuck, Matt, I can't even get the neighbors to think I'm good enough to fix the fucking car." Just as quickly as Mello had opened up, he shut back down again, the familiar, sarcastic mask sliding back into place. "I should just shoot the fucking neighbors," he muttered.

Matt offered a small smile and joked back, "Go ahead, I won't complain. They're loud, and their cat makes me sneeze."

Mello turned away from Matt and stared out the window, frowning deeply. "You know," Matt said quietly. "I think you can beat him. My opinion may not mean much to you, but that's what I think. Just… don't worry about how people see you. You'll beat Near and bring down Kira, and you'll see that the neighbors and whoever else thinks badly of you don't fucking matter." Matt stared down at his hands, feeling slightly stupid for being such a sap.

"Matt," Mello reached over the pushed the resume button on the game, once again filling the apartment with the noise of video game explosions, "you're fucking ridiculous. You know that, right?"

Matt sighed. Apparently, his words were going to go unappreciated.

"Oh, and Matt?" Mello pushed himself off the couch, twirling the wrench in one hand as he headed for the front door, "Thanks."

Mat t winced as the door slammed behind Mello, who was presumably on his way to destroy Matt's car a little. Matt just smiled and let him go.

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**This story was beta-ed by the lovely Inspiration Follows, and has been rotting away on my computer for months. Now I finally give it to you, people of the internet! Please don't throw it back at. Haha**


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